When worlds collide
by The Young Writer's Apprentice
Summary: When Sherlock falls, John surprises them both by doing something unexpected. Mycroft sends them to America so John can learn how to control his new found powers. But when Sherlock gets bored, and somebody expresses his hate for mutants through crimes, things really start to get interesting.
1. Chapter 1

"This phone call – it's,.. er it's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"

John stared up at Sherlock in horror. Sherlock was still standing on the edge of the rooftop, and it seemed like he had every intention of stepping off.

John pressed his phone to his face again.

"leave a note, when?" he asked, although he knew exactly when people left a note like this. He refused to except it though.

"Good bye, John." Sherlock answered. John watched with a growing feeling of terror as his best friend dropped his phone, spread his arms and leant forwards.

"No, SHERLOCK!" John felt a burst of power, and he ran towards the hospital, completely ignoring his surroundings. The only thing on his mind was getting to Sherlock, and he desperately wished that the world would stop.

When he finally reached the pavement, chanting: "Don't die, Sherlock, don't die." In his head over and over, he got the shock of his life. Floating barely 10 cm above the ground, was Sherlock, unable to move anything but his eyes.

John turned around, and watched how the world around him was motionless, as if somebody had just pushed the pause button of his life. There were birds hanging still in the air, cars that didn't move, as if London was holding its breath.

What happened afterwards was a bit of a blur to John. He remembered embracing Sherlock, who had franticly pushed him into Bart's after John let him go, making sure they were away from windows. Sherlock had called Mycroft, and after a hushed conversation over the phone -which John knew he loaded, because the detective preferred texting after all- he told John what happened on the rooftop.

x-x

Now John found himself outside the office of Charles Xavier, one of the most powerful mutants the world knew. Because that was the explanation for what happened during the fall, as John had started to call the incident in his head, John was a mutant.

John was shaken out of his thoughts when a young girl opened the door from the inside. She had dark hair with white strikes, and she wore long gloves.

"Are you okay?" John asked gently, reaching out to put a hand on the girls shoulder. The girl's teary eyes widened and she backed away, as if afraid of the touch.

"I'm fine." She replied, a little too quickly, before wiping her face with a gloved hand and hurrying away.

"Come in." A gentle voice said, and John entered the room. In front of the fire place was a bald man in a wheelchair. 'Sit down Dr. Watson, I bet you have a lot of questions."

John's eyes widened slightly, he had heard Charles speak clearly, but the man hadn't moved his mouth.

"In my head?" John muttered, and Charles smiled at him.

"You are fast." Charles spoke out loud. John laughed at this, he was sure Sherlock would disagree. He sat down on one of the many chairs in the room and looked at the man in front of him expectantly.

"It's quite extraordinary for someone like you to stay unnoticed this long." Charles told John gently.

"Yes, so why only now? I thought people found out about their mutation when they were teenagers" John asked, deciding to voice his thoughts. The older mutant was probably able to see them anyway.

Charles leant forwards a bit and looked John in the eyes.

"That's a good question, Dr. Watson." He said. "What do you know about mutants?"

John thought about that for a while, and then told Charles what popped up into his mind.

"A while back, Sherlock got a case where a mutant was killed, we did research together. The mutation is caused by a gene which is different than that of ordinary humans, and can range from invisibility to controlling the weather."

"Ah, you've read about Storm." Charles smiled.

"It's true that the mutation is caused by a gen which is different, and that there is a wide range of them. You can say that the mutation is another step in evolution, a new way to protect the specie. The gene activates when the carrier experiences heavy emotions or fear. Teens feel like that a lot, don't they?" It was a rhetorical question, but John nodded anyway.

"So why didn't it happen sooner? I felt like every other teen, and I've been in quite a lot of danger, I invaded Afghanistan. I live with bloody Sherlock Holmes! Believe me, I could've used a bit more protection quite often." He exclaimed.

"But you're also quite an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?" Charles stated, and John was quiet for a moment.

"So I've been told." He sighed eventually.

"You've always liked the danger, the thrill of the chase, so to speak. But what happened three days ago, wasn't fun. You were desperate, frightened that you would lose Sherlock." Charles said calmly.

"There is a possibility that your body thought you'd be able to handle it without help." He continued.

John raised an eyebrow. "Getting shot in the shoulder?" he asked cynically.

"there was a chance that bullet would've gone into your heart, wasn't there?" Charles remarked, ignoring John's tone. John thought about that, maybe it was true, and his body had changed the path of the bullet.

"I'm a mutant." John muttered softly, the realisation just hit him. He put his head in his hands and let out a long breath. "What now?" he asked uncertainly. Charles drove his wheelchair closer and put his hand on John's shoulder.

"That's entirely up to you, Dr. Watson." He answered. John raised his head to look Charles in the eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"You have a few options. You could go back to London, forget about what happened, and continue your life like a normal person, or you could stay here, learn how to control your powers, meeting others like you." Charles suggested.

John took a while to think about the proposal before answering.

"What about Sherlock, can he stay too?" He wondered out loud. "I mean, he isn't a mutant, so..." He drifted off. It wasn't like he was protesting, he wanted to keep the detective as close as possible, certainly after the events of the Fall.

Charles simply smiled at him.

"You can't exactly say he's normal either, can you Dr. Watson?" he inquired.

John chuckled softly at that, and wanted to agree when somebody burst through the door, interrupting their conversation. The man in front of them had short hair and red tinted glasses.

"Professor!" he panted, ignoring John completely. Charles turned to face the new man.

"What's wrong, Scott?" He asked calmly.

"Somebody managed to break into the underground labs."


	2. Chapter 2

Charles seemed genuinely surprised. "Into the labs?" he repeated, and Scott nodded. John sighed, already knowing who the intruder was, but the other two men ignored him.

"Alright, John, we'll continue this conversation later, and you can tell me your decision then." Charles decided, before turning back to Scott. "Scott, go down to the labs, find this person and bring them to me."

"Can I come along?" John asked. Scott turned his glassed gaze to him, and raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by the sweater wearing man in front of him.

"And who might you be?" he asked. John gritted his teeth, he started to dislike the man.

"I am Dr. John Watson, former Captain of the fifth Northumberland fusiliers." He said, rising from his seat. He took on his military stance to make up for what he lacked in height. The two glared at each other until Charles cleared his throat.

"Scott, take Dr. Watson with you." He told Scott, and the man muttered an agreement.

Scott walked out of the room, motioning for John to follow. As soon as they were out of the professor's sight, Scott started to run. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was trained in the military , and he had maintained his stamina by chasing criminals through the backstreets of London with Sherlock. If the mutant in front of him really thought he could shake John off by bursting into a sprint, he was wrong.

John almost missed the door Scott slipped through. The other side of it was completely different from the hallway they had been in before. Instead of the warm colour of wood, they were surrounded by white lights and metal doors, and John had the feeling he'd walked straight in to a science fiction movie. They moved through the maze of corridors in silence until Scott opened one of the metal doors.

The X on it split, and John tried not to snort, which earned him a glare. He couldn't help it though, why did it all have to be so dramatic?

Behind the door was the lab Scott had been talking about. John knew he was gaping, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been in a lot of laboratories, but this one was different. Bart's lab was quite upscale, but the equipment and devices here were way more advanced. Besides the standard equipment, there were devices that John had never seen before, and he got the idea that most of it was made just for this laboratory.

Between all those appliances stood a tall men with messy dark curls and a wicked smile on his face. Sherlock was exploring everything he could lay his hands on, and he looked like a child in a candy shop. John laughed softly, which caught his friend's attention.

"Ah, John, there you are. How did your conversation with Charles Xavier go?" Sherlock asked without looking up.

"Quite well, actually, until Scott stormed in. How long did it take them to discover you here?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged. About 35 minutes. They are slower than Mycroft." He replied.

"You know this man, Dr. Watson?" Scott interrupted sounding irritated.

"Yes, I do. Scott, this is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Scott..." John trailed off, he didn't know Scott's surname.

"Scott, yes." Sherlock stated, taking in every detail he could see. "Definitely a mutant, something with your eyes, something dangerous, if you hide them. Laser eyes? You're here because you've got nowhere else to go. You're in love with somebody, but she died. You're a teacher, although you don't have the enthusiasm to do so anymore-" a warning glare from John stopped Sherlock mid deduction. "Not good?" he asked.

"Bit not good, Sherlock." John sighed, watching Scott, who had turned pale, and looked ready to attack the detective. "I'm sorry Scott, he's always like this." John apologized half heartedly.

"Whatever." Scott snapped, before turning around and walking back the way he and John came from. "Get him out of our labs, bring him to the professor. I'm sure you can handle this freak." He called over his shoulder. John cringed slightly at the familiar nickname, but Sherlock wasn't too bothered.

"That's rich, coming from a mutant." The detective sneered before the door closed again.

"We really need to work on your social skills, Sherlock." John sighed, leaning against one of workbenches. Sherlock paused whatever it was what he was doing and looked up.

"You don't like him either." He pointed out.

"I know Sherlock, but he's one of the teachers here, and we shouldn't make enemies." John replied.

"You are staying then?" Sherlock asked, although they both knew the answer.

"Yes, you can too, if you want too. We should probably go to Charles though." John answered, before walking towards the door. Sherlock quickly followed, and together they made their way back to the office.

Charles had been impressed by Sherlock's deducing abilities, and the fact that the detective had gotten into the lab, and hadn't bothered trying to hide it. Sherlock had just shrugged and asked if he could have access to all labs and training rooms. Charles had smiled and agreed quickly.

"I guess that means you've made your decision John?" He asked the shorter man out of the two. John smiled and nodded. "Alright. You should ask Ororo if she can show you a free room after dinner. Everything else was sorted out surprisingly quickly, and after their meal with the other inhabitants of the school, Sherlock and John were on their way too their shared room, following a woman with short white hair who had introduced herself as Ororo Monroe, or Storm, if they wanted to call her that.

The room was nothing like 221B, but John could see charm of the place, the wood gave the room a cosy look. He dropped his bag on the left bed, and unzipped it to put his things in one of the wardrobes. Sherlock flopped down on the other bed, and he sighed contently.

"This place is full of mysteries John, there is so much to explore and examine." He told his flatmate, a childish grin on his face. John turned to look at Sherlock.

"This place or the people here?" he asked.

"Both." Sherlock answered after hesitating for a moment. John chuckled happily, and Sherlock soon joined him.

"I know you want to experiment with the mutations," John started, and he smiled as he saw the twinkle in his best friends eyes. "You can use my DNA, or cells, or whatever you need, just leave the students alone, alright?" Sherlock seemed to consider the cons off promising something like that, but he remembered what John had said about making enemies in this place an hour or so prior.

"I promise."

"Alright. Let's catch some sleep, the jetlag is starting to catch up with me." John yawned.

"My body doesn't need as much sleep as yours John." Sherlock protested half-heartedly.

"Whatever, I'm sure you could use a kip as well right now." John muttered, crawling in to his bed after changing into his pyjamas.

"good night John." Sherlock said before flicking off the lights.

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and favourites. I don't really know what way I'm going with this, but I like this idea so much. (and I'm heavily denying the existence of season 3) If you want to ask something, don't hesitate to pm me, and I'll react to reviews to of course. (Thank you guest :P)**


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please." John begged as he pushed through the crowd which had gathered, surrounding the body on the pavement. He felt people trying to hold him back, but he ignored them, desperately trying to get close to Sherlock.

"No, he's my friend. He's my friend. Please…" he moaned as he got a clear view of Sherlock's damaged body. John reached for Sherlock's arms, searching for a pulse, although he knew there was no way somebody could survive a fall like that. He choked back a cry as somebody pried his fingers from Sherlock's wrist and gently dragged him away.

Medics arrived, and the crowd parted for them. Sherlock was turned on his back, revealing his lifeless eyes, and John screamed.

"John, wake up!"

John woke with a start, almost head butting Sherlock, who was hovering over him, gently shaking his shoulders.

"You were having a nightmare." Sherlock said, stating the obvious. John pulled the taller man into a hug and buried his face in Sherlock's pyjama clad chest. "Don't ever do that again." He muttered. Sherlock didn't have to ask what he shouldn't do ever again. "I won't." He promised, wrapping his arms around John's quivering form. "I won't."

After a while John had calmed down enough to talk normally, and he untangled himself from Sherlock.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked.

"You did, but I've had enough sleep anyway." Sherlock said dismissively.

"Did I scream?" John asked, looking around the room they were staying in, desperately wishing he didn't.

"You did." Sherlock said softly. John groaned in embarrassment and rubbed his face. He just hoped that the walls were soundproof, and he hadn't just woken up the students in the dorm rooms surrounding theirs.

"I'm sorry." John mumbled. Sherlock shrugged in response.

"Come on," he said while getting up, distracting his friend was all he could do right now. "Let's see if those Americans have decent tea hidden in their kitchen." John chuckled softly in response, and got up too, grabbing his shoes and putting them on quickly, while Sherlock did the same.

Together they walked to the common room they had eaten supper with the others the evening before. John flopped down on a chair at the table as Sherlock started his quest for tea.

Until then John hadn't thought about what would have happened if his mutation hadn't showed in time, but the nightmare had violently pushed the possibilities to the front of his mind. He swallowed thickly as the images replayed in his head again and again. He didn't need his knowledge as a doctor to know what damage a fall from that height could do, and his mind kept supplying him with memories of Sherlock's mangled body in his dream.

Sherlock walked back into the room, holding two mugs. He placed one in front of John, who gratefully wrapped his hands around it, and sat down on a chair next to him.

"They don't have a kettle." Sherlock said apologetically when he saw John cringe slightly at the taste.

"I'm not sure if this stuff is actual tea either, but they didn't have any of our brands." He continued awkwardly as John kept quiet. He didn't like it when John kept quiet, it was never a good sign.

"What was your plan Sherlock?" John asked quietly, slowly raising his face to lock eyes with Sherlock. "I mean, I understand that you were going to jump of a building, but did you really want..?" John railed off. The pain in the doctor's voice was almost touchable, and suddenly Sherlock had a hard time swallowing.

"No." He whispered, because he couldn't manage much volume in his voice at the moment. They sipped their awful tea together until Sherlock had gathered the courage to tell the story of what happened that day.

He explained how Mycroft had helped giving Moriarty the feeling of having the winning had, how they speculated about the possible outcomes, and how those all ended up in suicide, how they managed to find solutions for every outcome. John was pale and the tremor was back in his hand.

"How many people knew about this, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock recognized the anger in his voice, and tried to think of a way to tell him without hurting him to badly. John, however, didn't take Sherlock's silence well.

"how many people, Sherlock?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

"Just a few." Sherlock answered elusively. He registered John's facial muscles tightening, and his pupils narrowing, and he knew what was coming before John roared: "HOW MANY?!"

Sherlock flinched. He understood how John felt.

"Mycroft, Molly, and a few people of the homeless network, one of them was a mutant, who can teleport." He stated as quickly as possible.

"A pathologist with a massive crush on you, a brother you practically can't stand, and a hundred tramps?" John was trying not to shout, but it didn't really work.

"Twenty five, tops." Sherlock protested half heartedly.

"You trusted twenty five tramps, but you didn't trust me?"

"John..."

"No, don't you 'John' me, Sherlock. Would you have told me? Or would you have left, just letting me believe you were dead?" John demanded.

"Of course not!" Sherlock snapped, although that actually had been the plan.

"Your life was in danger. Moriarty had a sniper positioned to shoot you if I hadn't jumped, and two others for Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. I couldn't have let that happen!"

John was about to snap something back when a man with a bottle of beer walked into the room.

When the argument didn't continue he looked up.

"Don't let me stop you, your little shouting match was quite interesting." He chuckled, combing a hand through his brown and Sherlock looked at each other in surprise.

"Who are you?" John asked eventually, to break the silence. The new man scoffed.

"Good question." He bitterly muttered under his breath. John tried not to blink in surprise, but Sherlock gave the man one of his signature looks.

"You're a mutant, and you heal faster than anybody else, you worked in the army, but stopped a long time ago. You also worked as a lumberjack, and you suffer from memory loss." Sherlock said, voicing the deduction he made in his head. John lightly nudged his arm.

"Tact." He muttered, when Sherlock looked at him distortedly.

The man in front of him just stared at Sherlock in surprise.

"So you're the new mutant, eh?" he asked.

"No, that's me. Sherlock here's a detective, seeing your life story in a single glance is his specialty."John sighed. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah sure, if he isn't a mutant, he was probably just lucky." He said. Sherlock took a step forward, slightly broadening his chest.

"You're wearing dog tags, and your stance screams military. You don't have any scars whatsoever, and you are walking around in a school for mutants. Which suggests you're a mutant yourself. You have a physical mutation, which allows you to heal at a much quicker rate than others. The tags are quite old, the U.S. military uses a newer kind of dog tags now. The fact that you were a lumberjack was a bit harder to figure out, but it's written all over your hands, apparently your mutation didn't stop your body from forming callus, during the years of hard work."

Sherlock paused dramatically, before adding: "Am I right?" as a challenge. The man grinned and extended his hand.

"I'm Logan." He introduced himself. "And you were right about almost everything." The moment Sherlock grabbed his hand, three razor sharps blades shot out from between his knuckles.

"Christ!" John cursed as Sherlock jerked his hand back in shock. Logan's grin grew even bigger.

"This is my mutation." He stated as he retracted the claws back into his body.

Sherlock turned to John, a childish twinkle in his eyes.

"John?"

"Only if Logan is okay with it, otherwise you'll only have me. You know the deal." John told Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and turned back to Logan.

"Can I examine your DNA?" he asked.

Logan thought about that for a while. There had been enough experimenting with his DNA, but he had the feeling the Brit was only curious. Sherlock saw his doubt.

"John agreed, if it makes you feel better, we can do it at the same time?"

Logan looked at John, who was the smallest out of the two other men. He seemed to be completely at ease around Sherlock.

"I'll think about it." He decided. Sherlock's whole face lit up with excitement.

"You're not going to try this with everyone." John warned. "Summers dislikes us enough as it is, let's not give him a reason to work us out."

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. John gave up on looking strict and smiled warmly at his friend.

"Let's flush that horrible tea away and go back to sleep." Sherlock nodded in response, and the two left the room.

Logan stared after the two of them. He liked those Brits.

**A/N: Tadaaa. I'm so proud I've finished this. (1500+ words! Yeey) you know the whole deal, I don't own any of this, I don't make profit of this, I purely do this for fun. If you want to ask anything, pm me, just leave a review or favourite. **


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